


Thesaurus

by cortisolyuh



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Inspired Work, M/M, Open to Interpretation, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:24:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortisolyuh/pseuds/cortisolyuh
Summary: My poems inspired by real events, shows, books, and other works. Completely open to interpretation.Do not quote or repost without permission and proper credit.Also some short stories featuring whatever comes to mind.





	1. Angel Who-?

My dear friend who showers metal

and adorns white

Who wanted to save the world

But ends up ending mine

Who cradles me when I cry

Who visits me under blurred lights

Who plays with dolls and twists their threads

Who holds humanity and demons alike

In his ice cold blues

Who is an angel

And the worst demon

Is not my dear friend anymore

Who lost his mind

Is no longer a human at heart

Who only wanted to save me

Is the one who killed me

Who are you crying for?


	2. Venus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This actually is a riddle. What am I talking about?

Daughter of moons and

Son of suns

Cast from heaven to be

Grounded for eternity

Beauteous feathers reach for leftover stars

But are soon taken over from

Their blazing Lord


	3. Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This came to me right before I was about to sleep so I wrote down 3 words and then this came out the next morning.

Blasphemous Pride

Sentenced to an eternity

Of rain

Enveloping their polar glories

As thunder crashes and burns

Lovers' quarrel with blood and fire

Until there is no Love

Only Sadness


	4. School Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is supposed to be an assignment for school but i actually liked it so ima post it

Let me spill myself into ink

To let perspectives judge

For who am I to do so myself?

Humans have ink written on their souls

Their words intertwine each other

Some loose, others knotted

Chances or fate,

God or universe,

In the end those souls are still here

Let them build our story


	5. Mysteries of Questions

Perhaps  
the profound mind with its  
layers of twisting knowledge and  
dividing strands  
sending chemicals and signals  
was never meant to be explored  
but rather chanced upon

For who is to decide whether the psyche  
discovers truth and lies?

Philosophical creators and  
truth-seekers developed heaven and hell  
consciousness and sleep  
truth from lies  
so what has made them that way?

Perhaps  
it is God with divine judgment and righteousness  
set by human standards  
or chance by which it was created from the created

Mysteries of faith and universe  
can never truly be answered  
unless our higher power commands our wills  
to verify multidimensional truth

In the end  
it all comes down to truth  
and how we want to perceive it  
for it is never about want  
but need


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trying to put words into my sleep paralysis

There's something in the room. Something. Something, but it's unclear what it is. There is just something. It's all around the walls, the ceiling, the very air we breathe. It's crawling, stalking and tastes like poisonous metal. Blood. A tangy sensation that grinds teeth and tears gums.

Static and something else-- why is everything so unfocused, so unclear? It weaves itself into minds and fills the gap of silence, or does it? It sounds like silence, loud and so, very there, so very obvious. It's everywhere, coming from everything. Get away, instincts scream, nearly being enveloped from the noise. GET AWAY RUN DO SOMETHING MOVE

Something (always something, not someone-- not really) weighs the body down, keeping it down. Blood rushes as the mind realizes that it can't get away, it's trapped. Bones locked, muscles stiff, eyes leaking, voice gone, there's nothing that can be done.

Just sit still, and hope to be freed, to escape, to call for help. Help that won't come because no sound, nothing at all, can escape the room.

The walls are closer than they used to be, or are they expanding? Darkness twists around to form shapes, nonsensical entities that lean in and surround everything, holding appendages and chests down like weights. There's no option to fight, not while the paralysis is still there. 

Eyes with blown, black pupils must stay open. If they close, it'll get you it's right there watching and waiting for you to slip up it'll come and rip your body to shreds tear tendons swallow organs burst vessels taste fear--

It's loud, screaming with new abandon, but the source of all that chaos can't be found nor ignored.

Then it abides, tiredness sinking into limbs that can finally move. Breathing is forceful, pulling and pushing into panicked lungs. The somethings retreated back where they came from, promising another session with them and their games.


	7. Oh, Worms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> worms

The worm  
Crawling through short life  
But yet, it slithers.  
No exoskeletons or caged structures  
Unlike most insects.  
Worms  
They can be flat, sea-like  
Or round, earthly.  
Parasitic lifestyles feed on their hosts  
Such as the given:  
Nematoda and Platyhelminthes

Woe!  
Cries the Nematoda  
It's silent cries reverberate through a body.  
Its eggs grow in the chamber  
That is a living host.  
How ironic that a life must be given to rise more.  
Many, many more  
For the worms come forth as larvae  
Breaking out of skin  
And eating on flesh  
How revengeful!  
How awful!  
Why must these things happen?  
Woe, the Nematoda cries!  
Woe is it that takes too little for too much.  
Ah, but the hosts mustn't dally:  
Be forewarned that the Nematoda  
Lurks in the unsuspecting.

Thick, yet flat worms  
These Platyhelminthes are.  
Greedy beings  
It takes up two hosts instead of one.  
Liver, lungs, intestines  
It makes house of your organs  
For no longer are these yours,  
But theirs.  
Corruption abound!  
Plague spreaders in invisible ways  
It feeds off of your sustenance  
And returns the favor  
With disease.  
Mosquitoes shame all parasites  
For the true champion  
Are the Platyhelminthes.


	9. Chapter 9

What do we do to strive for  
To reach suffering?  
None are content with happiness  
So what is the purpose of labels  
To dictate what is to be?  
Fragile, transparent concepts  
Rule over us.

Let me backtrack.  
It is out of our control even  
If it appears to be in our control.  
How can we become slaves of ourselves?  
For what purpose does suffering achieve  
Other that a stark reflection of happiness?

Words were woven to express  
To reach beyond what is visible  
But words contain my expressions  
So I can only offer this:

Why do we ask for suffering?  
What is monotonous about happiness?  
Why do we seek insanity?  
Who decides what is?


End file.
